


Love Hurts

by runningwithdinosaurs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek, Bottom Derek Hale, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Human Derek Hale, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Riding, Top Stiles Stilinski, but Derek straightens them out, just anti-Stalia, pro Malia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningwithdinosaurs/pseuds/runningwithdinosaurs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone seemed to think they knew exactly how things went down in Derek and Stiles’s relationship. </p>
<p>But here’s the problem: as a human, Derek didn’t heal instantaneously anymore.</p>
<p>As a human, Derek limped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Hurts

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Love Hurts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2394656) by [ElasticLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticLove/pseuds/ElasticLove)



> Hi there! I'm back. It's been a while because real life kicked me in my metaphorical balls. But I'm back with another prompt fill from tumblr: "That's a good look for you. sterek." I hope you guys like it; I do, but I also just really think Derek Hale deserves nice things and nice things include Stiles Stilinski's penis in my mind.

Here’s the problem: Everyone seemed to think they knew exactly how things went down in Derek and Stiles’s relationship. Because Derek was older, because Stiles was slender, because Derek was a former alpha, because blah, blah, blah…

It didn’t matter why. It just mattered that they did. But Stiles honestly didn’t care. They could think whatever they wanted to, as long as Derek and Stiles stayed true to themselves and what worked for them.

But here’s the problem: as a human, Derek didn’t heal instantaneously anymore.

As a human, Derek limped.

As a human, Derek winced when he took his seat in the morning. Sometimes in the afternoon. Sometimes at dinner.

They were healthy young men, ok?

The problem wasn’t that it was taking Derek longer to recover (they’d talked long and hard and _so maturely_ about that). The problem was that people were starting to notice.

As a human, Derek developed a tendency of shifting around in his chairs a lot. He noticed that it caused two reactions: Stiles looking unusually smug and everyone else looking uncomfortable.

That was their fault for buying into stereotypes.

***

Derek fisted his hands in the sheets, pushing back against the steady thrusts.

“Fuck, baby, you like that?”  Stiles breathed, hips rocking into Derek’s.

“Mmm,” Derek moaned and nodded into the pillow.

Stiles always checked on him like that during sex. Part of it was his love of talking and the sound of his own voice, sure, but there was something else to it. At first, Derek had thought it overconfidence. Or perhaps insecurity. A lack of self-confidence. Alpha-posturing.

But now he knew that it was just Stiles’s genuine care and concern that Derek was enjoying himself as much as he was.

“Good,” Stiles chuckled, gripping Derek’s hip tightly with one hand and running his other gently along the small of Derek’s back.

“Nnngh,” Derek grunted after a particularly well-placed, hard thrust.

Stiles smiled, “Good.”

***

Here’s the problem: Everyone is thinking it, but no one wants to say anything.

Stiles still doesn’t think it’s anyone’s business, but if there’s one constant in Beacon Hills besides death and medical bills, it’s everyone getting all up in everyone else’s business.

He was sitting on the couch in Derek’s loft, his feet on the coffee table, steadily selling his soul to Candy Crush, when Scott, Kira and Liam walked in.

“Yo,” he nodded, eyes never leaving his game.

He did look up, however, when no one responded. Kira and Liam were both looking at Scott, whose face was screwed up.

“Dude!” Scott sniffed. “Seriously?”

Stiles shrugged. It had been almost two hours ago. Not his fault Scott’s true alpha senses were so strong.

“Hey guys,” Derek said, walking into the room, a slight hitch in his step.

Scott looked at Stiles like he’d betrayed him in all of the worst possible ways.

“What?” Stiles snapped, narrowing his eyes at Scott.

“Nothing,” the alpha replied, holding up his hands and coming to sit next to Stiles. Derek settled on his other side, their hands immediately and casually clasping.

Kira hopped over and bounced down hard onto the couch, sending a shock wave across the soft cushions. Derek winced.

No one said anything.

Stiles shrugged- he’s pretty well-endowed, ok?

***

If Derek was a poet, he’d write odes to Stiles’s hands. To his long, dexterous fingers. To his wide, gentle palms. To the way he crooked his fingers _just_ right.

“Fuck, Stiles,” he grunted.

Unfortunately, he was not a poet.

Stiles grinned and shifted his two fingers deeper, mouthing on Derek’s cock.

Derek moved his hand from where it was grasping at the sheets on Stiles’s bed and raised it to drag gently through the messy hair on the head bobbing in his lap.

Stiles hummed happily around him, hollowing his cheeks as he pressed another finger in along with the first two. Derek arched off the bed as Stiles began to tap rhythmically at his prostate, milking it for all he was worth.

Derek was sensitive, ok?

A clever twist of his fingers and a filthy laving of Stiles’s tongue from the base of Derek’s cock to the tip left Stiles with barely enough time to wrap his lips back around the head before Derek was coming in thick spurts down his throat.

Derek eventually sagged back on the bed and Stiles crawled up his body, licking his lips. Derek caught Stiles’s hand on its way to his cheek and cradled it, kissing each digit before sucking the middle one into his mouth. Stiles’s eyes went dark and hooded. Derek released the soaking appendage and smiled the smile of the well-fucked.

“I love your fingers.”

***

Here’s the problem: It had been two weeks of Derek’s human-hood and everyone was acting just as skittish as when they had first found out Stiles and Derek were together months ago.

It was, _of course_ , Malia who finally addressed it.

“Why is everyone acting so weird around you and Derek?” she asked him one day in the library during one of their _Yay, Malia is a Real Girl Who Can Do Differential Equations!_ study sessions.

“What do you mean?” Stiles deflected casually. “Nothing seems weird.”

She shot him one of her _Stiles, Why Do You Even Bother Breathing?_ looks (so, _so_ unimpressed) and replied, “Oh, I don’t know. Everyone seems to keep going all tense whenever Derek walks in a room or you guys are together.”

“Maybe our friends are all secretly homophobes,” Stiles joked weakly.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Malia responded, a frown on her face. “They all love Mason.”

“And Danny. I miss Danny,” Stiles added, thinking of his kind-of friend who was on an exchange trip in France, lucky bastard.

“I don’t know who that is.”

“He was totally attracted to me!” he assured her.

“I’m sure Derek liked that,” she retorted. “So what’s changed between you and Derek?”

“Nothing, we’re great! Better than ever, even!” he turned slightly red at the truth of the words.

“Then what’s the problem?” Malia was like a dog with a bone when she wanted to know something. Only, you know, a coyote.

Stiles sighed and bit the bullet. “Because Derek is human, now.”

“They’re homophobic against humans!? But you’re a-”

“No,” Stiles tapped his pencil on her notebook. “Just no.”

“Then what-”

“Look,” Stiles rubbed his eyes. “It’s because of Derek being human that they found something out that shocked them and made them uncomfortable.”

“Isaac hasn’t even been able to be around Derek lately,” Malia agreed.

“That’s probably because Derek used to be his alpha,” Stiles acknowledged.

“What’d they find out?” Malia prompted.

“People look at me and Derek and they… _assume_ certain things. About what we like and how we do things when we’re alone. And you know what they say about assuming things.”

Malia blinked at him. “No, I don’t.”

“Oh, uhh, it makes an ass out of you and me.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Never mind!” Stiles cried, waving his pencil in the air. “The point is, people assume and they shouldn’t.”

“What did they assume?”

Knowing that Malia wouldn’t give up, Stiles simply said, “That I bottom.”

“And?”

Stiles shrugged, “I don’t. Not usually.”

“Why not?”

“Derek likes it more. And I like what Derek likes.”

“That’s sweet. What’s ‘bottom’ mean?”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. It was going to be a _long_ study session.

***

Derek gasped as he shifted his hips just right, clenching down on the cock nudging against his prostate.

Stiles stared up at him from his position flat on his back and smoothed his hands along Derek’s straining flanks.

"That’s a good look for you,” he murmured.

Derek grinned and planted his hands on Stiles’s sweaty chest. Having found the perfect spot, he started to rock back and forth in Stiles’s lap.

“Feel good?” Stiles gritted out, holding himself back from thrusting upwards while Derek found his groove.

Derek bit his lip and nodded, “Yeah.”

Stiles braced his feet on the bed and gripped Derek’s hips, “Want help?”

Derek’s eyes slid shut, “Yeah.”

Stiles smiled up at his boyfriend, loving his subvocalness during sex, and he helped Derek lift himself up and down, fucking himself on Stiles’s cock.

After a few minutes of that, Derek slowed down, breathing heavily. “I-I can’t.”

Stiles felt the minute tremors and muscle spasms going up and down Derek’s spread thighs.

As a human, Derek, who used to ride Stiles for what felt like hours, needed breaks.

Without any warning, Stiles sat up and wrapped his arms tight around Derek’s shoulders. He rolled them over with only minimal limb flailing and soon had Derek settled under him on the bed.

“Don’t worry, boo, I got you.”

Derek’s response was to raise one unimpressed brow.

Stiles leered. Challenge accepted.

***

Here’s the problem: After Stiles finished explaining everything to Malia, she’d sneered, said “That’s ridiculous” and marched off to confront the rest of the pack. Stiles trailed along behind her, begging her not to break anything. Or anyone.

As they reached the loft, Stiles was explaining, “It’s apparently a pretty normal thing. Different people’s bodies are wired different ways. They like different things.” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, “I, uhh, did a lot of research.”

Malia nodded, “You watched porn. I get it.” Stiles sputtered as she slid the loft door open with an angry clang. The entire gang was there, gaping at them. “Listen up, homophobes-”

Derek held up a hand, his mouth crooked in a placating smile. “There’s no need. We all just finished having a little… _chat_.” His eyes flitted to the teens (and Peter) sitting in front of him. They all looked just as terrified of him as they had when he was an alpha (except Peter—he just looked bored).

Stiles walked over to Derek and bumped their shoulders together. “Everything all cleared up?”

Derek showed his canines. “Oh yes.”

“Good,” Stiles glanced at his friends. They looked a little shell-shocked. Mostly ashamed. They seemed to be relaxing, though. Oh, to be a fly on that wall.

Derek wandered off into the kitchen and Scott and Isaac immediately followed, looking repentant. Lydia tipped her head at Stiles, mouthed “Well done” and started filing her nails. A throat cleared gently on Stiles’s right.

Kira held her knuckles out for a covert fist bump and Stiles grinned. He even threw a little explosion in at the end.

***

Stiles waited a little while after Derek became a wolf again to bring it up.

“I guess you’re pretty happy, huh?” he tried to joke, half on top of Derek, face buried in the new beta’s shoulder.

“Satisfied. I wouldn’t push it to happy,” Derek snarked automatically in response.

“I think that’s _exactly_ what I did five minutes ago,” Stiles couldn’t help punning, waggling his eyebrows.

Derek ignored him.

After a few beats of silence, Stiles clarified, “I meant your werewolf healing being back and all.”

Derek didn’t reply right away, just kept trailing his fingers up and down Stiles’s side. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, no more imminent death. I’ll miss some stuff though.”

“Like what?” Stiles’s heart started to beat faster.

Derek turned his head to mouth at Stiles’s ear. “Like feeling you inside me, long after you’d gone. A reminder.”

Stiles tucked his face even further into the juncture of Derek’s neck and shoulder, knowing there was no way Derek wouldn’t feel the huge smile on his face.

“Good.”

***

(When Deaton tells them, months later, that werewolves can suppress their healing instincts for short periods of time if necessary, Stiles catches Derek’s eyes from across the room and they share a private smile. A promise.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I [tumble](http://runwiththisdinosaur.tumblr.com/). And I always accept prompts :-)


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